Close-up of a black ink script tattoo reading Love, Mom on the inner wrist, beside a handwritten note on yellow paper with the same words.

Love, Mom handwriting tattoo on wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is the words Love, Mom written in a loose cursive handwriting style on the inner wrist. The lettering is rendered in black ink with thin, even linework and soft grey shading in places. A yellow sheet of handwritten paper fills the right side of the frame, and the photo is taken at close range against the skin.

Lettering Forearm Love Mom Handwriting Script

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Pull that stool nearer the fan, you'll want to hear this sitting. My neighbour out past Saltbush Wells had a son who drove the water tanker along the Calder Pass road, four days out and four back, and she never once let a letter leave her kitchen table without the same two words at the bottom.

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Every week a yellow envelope went into the mail sack. Whatever the news was, the weather, the goats, the price of flour, she'd finish it off in that slanted hand: Love, Mom. Dell never wrote back much. He said a page of her talk was worth a month of his silence, and he tacked every envelope up on the sun visor of the cab so the wind couldn't have them.

Then one March the envelopes stopped coming back, and the mail started coming home instead. The tanker was found in a dry wash with the door open and the visor bare. The sheriff's man carried the lot to her in a cardboard box and set it down on the step. She sat beside it and read every one out loud, to nobody, and the desert took the rest of the afternoon to go quiet.

She didn't cry at the box, that's what people never believe. She took a fresh sheet from the drawer, wrote a single line about the rain that hadn't come, and signed it the way she always signed. Then she drove it to the depot and asked them to pin it where he'd have looked for it. They did. It's still up there, on the visor of a truck nobody drives, and the two words on it are as black as the day she wrote them.